The Last Elf's Song
by CynicalCorpse
Summary: Legolas’s story of what came after the ring. Death, destruction, depression, angst, and love. Lego learns the true depth of mortal cruelties and becomes hardened, cruel, and begins to spawn powers of a dark nature. -The story of his battle to come to t


A/N:

Warning! This story is extremely dark, morbid, and angsty. Lots of blood, human sacrifice, and heathenism. There are also homosexual undertones… though nothing explicit or graphic along those lines, and the story ends in a heterosexual relationship. If you're not into any of this stuff, Leave Now. It only digs deeper farther into the story. And yes, I know this is not really how the LOTR ends… I have made alterations to suit my needs. 

Since I'm only doing this story in two maybe three chapters tops, each individual chapter is rather long, so I have divided them into "ballads" each new "ballad" begins a new sequence for our narrator, Legolas, though please know that every "ballad" is not supposed to be a song, but really more like a mini chapter.

The Last Elf's Song

Part 1: The Beginning of the End

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Ballad 1: the downfall of humanity

Legolas speaks…

I lay silently in the autumn leaves, pondering on this life of mine… How long before the end? The world of the elves is quickly failing… The menfolk have over-run this once good Earth. Their petty wars have raped and ravaged the land, no beauty remains, only the desolate ruins of a land betrayed. Oh, that this barbarian race of men had never come to be.

They are consumed by their greed and blinded by their hunger for the land. They lead wars amongst each other, draw blood, and sacrifice what few good things they have in their life for land and power -but can't they see that in their mindless conquest they destroy the very land they are seeking to possess? This Earth was not created for a single man or men to own all to themselves. 

We are but humble tenants in this life, we rent the land for our short existences, and then all returns to mother Earth once again. We come into this life with nothing, and so we cannot take anything with us when we pass. But these abominable mortals would see the Earth irrevocably damaged before admitting to any fault of their own. Fools! All of them! 

I once fought against a great evil -against the power of sorcery and greed and despair, and all in an effort to save this beauteous world, to redeem the pathetic lives of men, so that even they could savor a bit of sweetness in their time to take with them to the next stage… but now all of that seems to have been in vain. The mortals demolish Middle Earth faster than Saruman ever could with a million orcs at his bidding. 

The fellowship won the battle of the ring, but was not able to even breach a hole into the absurdly jealous hearts of men. For a long time, I felt that with men like Aragorn around, Middle Earth would not be in such bad hands. But then I met more of the human race and realized that Aragorn was a one-of-a-kind, and that no man, now alive or not yet born could ever compare. And then I remembered also, that Aragorn had been raised in the court of Elrond, by elves, and that was probably why I had thought him so great an enlightened man. 

But that was years past… centuries ago, when we had gone questing for the ring. I was so young and impressionable then -happy to bow at the bidding of my father -happy to run his little errands to court, happy to represent the elves in the fellowship, happy to lower myself to befriending a dwarf, and most certainly happy to put my life on the line so that some undeserving mortals could live and conquer, and desecrate all things good without fear of impending enslavement. I was so naïve then -so trusting in things I did not know of. But then again, I was happy. To be happy or enlightened? The wisest mortals say that ignorance is bliss, but to the contrary they also claim that wishing for ignorance is like wishing for death. Feh. Just shows how even the wisest of mortals isn't bright enough to know how not to contradict himself. 

But now even those who were companions to me on the journey to destroy the ring are gone, most of them dead for decades now. I should have left for the Grey Heavens with the rest of my kind long, long ago. I even remember that fateful day, the day I sealed my eternal misery. 

I was just about to board the ship to the eternal lands with the very last of my Elvin-kind when Aragorn, damn his soul, stepped forth to me and bade me stay with him and Arwen in Gondor. He said to me, "An Earth without presence of elves is a barren, and desolate Earth indeed. Come and stay with me, brother Legolas. We shall together see the dawning of a new time; a time without the evils of the ring, nor the curses of hatred or jealousy. Evil has left the land, but with the elves goodness also leaves the land. And what is there to take the place of both good and evil in their absence? A fresh start is to be had in Middle Earth, and I wish with all my heart that you would witness it with me." 

And so, with those very words, my soul and curiosity were touched. Suddenly, the pull of the sea left me completely, and I had no desire to sail to my place of eternal rest. I wanted only for a fresh taste of life, as after I had lived for many years, well, the very essence of living had become stale. What Aragorn had spoke of -this new age, free of mortal impurities, was all too much lure for my hungry curiosity's appetite. 

But I would learn, all too soon, that Aragorn spoke lies to me that day. Every thing he had said was conjured straight out of his idealistic imagination. Yes, the embodiment of evil had been put to rest, but his seeds still spawned in the very beings of men. This "fresh start" never came about… only that evil had taken on a new guise. In this instance, curiosity had not killed a cat, but the heart of an elf. 

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Ballad 2: A love not meant to be.

I, still in the prime of my youth, and not yet hardened by fate's cruel hand, moved to Gondor, a land run completely by men, and tried to start my life anew with Aragorn and his family. I confess that I have always admired Aragorn -his rugged masculinity, paired with the sensitivity and noble ways he had learned from years spent with elves made him a most irresistible force. I admit also, that I had, for many years, entertained feelings for him -feelings of a more intimate and passionate nature than that of friendship. During our quest for the ring, I had welcomed him into my arms countless times with much more than brotherly love, and he reciprocated my affections with unparalleled affections of his own, and none of them being of a platonic nature. 

Though, looking back, I can not help but feel used. Our journey was a long one, and Aragorn had been without his true love for so long -I think he merely wanted physical comfort where he could get it -even if it was in the arms of a male elf. That, and the uncertainty of it all -we saw both Gandalf and Boromir disappear before our eyes, and I think that struck a chord deep inside us both -we both wanted to feel _that_ kind of love at least once in this realm, before having our lives ripped unmercifully from beneath us. We both wanted to indulge in feverish passions… let our bodies lead our minds for once, and pleasure each other fully, completely, and without regrets for what we thought could very well be the last of our blissful days. 

And yes, I remember each and every singular encounter -they are the body of my most treasured memories, episodes that I will never forget… I felt such heated fires run in my veins, like no female was ever able to spark… While Aragorn may have later wished we had never indulged as we did, or try to forget once he started fresh with Arwen, there is no doubt in my mind that never again will I experience that kind of love again… 

Did I truly love him? Or was I just using him as he was using me -for physical benefits alone? Well, it is something that I may ponder on for the rest of eternity, and still never know. For it is hard for an elf, especially of my caliber to not give himself over in such a way without falling in love. And yet, throughout the duration of our tryst, I kept seeing images of Arwen -Arwen and Aragorn together, the way it was meant to be -and then I felt myself a selfish elf indeed, to want so great a man all to myself. 

The Heavens know, I was so terribly jealous and bitter of Arwen… that she should be the keeper of Aragorn's heart. I remember that at one point during our journey, when Aragorn had fallen over a cliff, and I was the only one who believed him still among the living -I held on to his most prized possession -the pendant that Arwen had given him -the light of the evenstar. It took all my self-control not to crush the damned thing. The very symbol of their affections that had taunted me from around Aragorn's neck every time he had slept with me. 

But all of that passed in time… My jealousy was short lived once I came to the understanding that Aragorn would never be happy with me alone. He belonged with Arwen, and her only, and by sleeping with him, I had only caused pain and heart break for myself -for childishly investing my feelings in the first person -man or woman- that I ever admired. I had grown up amidst perfection and Aragorn's mortal imperfections drew me to him. 

But it's behind me now… and I only feel pity for Arwen. After Aragorn died, she was so buried in grief that her heart simply shattered… She went raving lunatic mad. At first, she would lock herself in her chambers for days on end…. Crying endlessly, never eating, never sleeping. After almost a month of unceasing mourning, she emerged from her rooms in an almost unearthly, dream-like state. At first, she seemed perfectly normal, she would greet you with such salutations as were fitting, as though nothing had ever happened. But then, she would say something utterly crazed like, "I think I will go speak with the lord Aragorn now." And then, walking in that tranced state of hers -as if on air, she would disappear into the rooms that she and Aragorn had once shared.

I spied on her a couple of times during her "visits" with her deceased husband. She would sit on her side of the bed, and face the side of the bed where he had always slept, and have a conversation with thin air. And she spoke so animatedly and realistically to "Aragorn" That I was sometimes half-convinced that my eyes were playing tricks on me, and that Aragorn was truly there, sitting on his bed, and talking to his devoted wife. Arwen went on like this for many months… of course everyone was concerned about her, but they let her carry on her charades, as there was really nothing that could be done, and she was harmless… or so they thought. 

Over the next few years, unexplainable things began happening around the Gondorian castle. Strange noises would be heard in the night. Servants would awake in the morning to find the castle in disarray -furniture turned over, plates broken, windows smashed. And then truly eerie things came to pass -small animals and hunting dogs would turn up dead, with meat-cutting knives thrust through their guts. Strange messages like, "soon, my love" and "when will you return?" showed up on the walls, seemingly painted in blood. And then one morning, two small girls were found dead, in the great hall's fireplace -burnt alive, their screams smothered by gags, their very blood boiled in their veins, and the impression of their scratching fingernails were visible on the wooden floorboards, as they tried to escape their fiery end. 

After that, most of the servants were scared away, and much to my amusement, claimed that it was the work of a witch, a daemon, or even a ghost. But I stayed, smiling, knowing secretly the culprit of the castle's misfortunes. It had been Arwen all along. I had seen her dissent into evil unfold before my very eyes… and to me, it was fascinating, enrapturing… beautiful. Is it truly sick of me to admit that seeing Arwen in such suffering -to see her driven to the extent of taking human life is a thing of beauty? I know not… I know not the extent of my own insanity either, but I do know that seeing her wreaking havoc on the castle made me feel more fulfilled than I had felt in years. 

Arwen's reign of terror continued for another year, her acts becoming increasing disgusting, heinous, and to me, satisfactory. It was as if she were exacting the revenge on mortal's faults, Aragorn's memory, and herself, that I had always wanted, but was never able to carry out. Then, one beautiful spring day, exactly 25 years since I had come to live in Gondor, Arwen, still in the grasps of her twisted, delusional enchantment, took a large butchering knife from the kitchens, and stabbed her son, her only child, right through the heart. I was there, I witnessed it in broad daylight, as she pulled the knife out of her son's corpse, wiped the blade clean with her fingers and wrote, in elvish, using her son's blood, on the wall nearest to her, "The light and love of the evenstar does not wax or wane." Then she cast the knife away, and jumped right through a closed window, falling five stories to her death. They buried her mangled corpse next to her son's and husband's. 

That was the day I left their castle, never to return, though I did hear later that Arwen's final, bloody message turned to black, and stained the wall where it was written, so that it could never be washed away. And that if you listen hard enough on a clear night, you can hear Arwen's crying echoing in the halls. 

I decided then that there was nothing left for me at all on this miserable realm, and that the time had come, after a twenty-five year delay, to return to my people in the Grey Heavens. But it seems fate would not have it so….

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Ballad 3: A Twisted Fate Indeed.

I returned to Rivendell, where the last ships had sailed towards the Grey Heavens. My father had left me a small boat so that I, too, could sail to the undying lands when I was ready. I said my last goodbyes to the Elvin-land, which was now rotting away without the care of the elves. Nature had come into her own again, and was slowly erasing every trace that the elves had ever been. Of course, that was the idea. 

Unlike men, elves never wished to scar the Earth, or leave behind traces of themselves. We had built our homes around nature, never cutting down a tree or damming up a stream. Our houses were made of only organic materials that would eventually decompose once we left, and return to the Earth, leaving it perfectly natural and untainted. Every animal and tree in the forest was sacred to my kind… never would we even think of chopping down a forest or setting nature's beauty on fire so that we may have a place to live. 

We, just as all other beings, accepted the fact that we are part of nature, and held no more claim to it than the very ants that walked the ground. But for centuries now, the savage likes of men had been killing off forests… chopping, burning, destroying… entire species of animals were hunted to extinction, the earth was dying… I hated mortals. I hated what they did to the land, I hated what they made me become. 

Man-kind was a pack of beasts, no better than orcs, and they deserved to die. To be hunted and killed ruthlessly, running with fear in their hearts, to be shot down in mid-air, with blood-curdling screams piercing the skies, the soft thud of dead bodies hitting the liberated soil and a rain of blood… that would be a fine day indeed, for you reap what you sow, and men had been sowing their inevitable demise for so long now. And the ancients help me, if I had an arrow for every man alive, I would not hesitate to shoot them all dead, one by one if need be. 

But soon, soon I would be reunited with my family in eternal peace, where I could lay my heart to rest… I would forget these wicked thoughts, and allow the hatred and anger to leave me, I would heal my wounds… but never, not even in the lands of peace and serenity would I ever forget or forgive the trespasses of men. 

These were my final thoughts before I boarded my vessel and set off into the morning air, to the destination just beyond my reach…

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Ballad 4: A Cold Sun Rises.

I sailed on, and for days on end, my surroundings looked same as they had since I left shore; miles of ocean and fog. But even the fog seemed surreal; it was more like a mist of sorts. A thick, dense, mist that blanketed my surroundings and even blocked out the very sun. It taunted me, mocked me, barred me from my peace… I had been sailing for nearly two weeks, but legend says it takes less than a week to reach the golden shores… so where, then, was I? Had my inner self led me astray? Deserted me? I was completely and utterly lost, barely able to my hand in front of my face.

No matter how I tried, I could not find my way… I wandered alone for months in my vessel before giving up hope. I had no choice but to turn back to shore or risk running out of provisions and dying out here -and death was not an option. I am a survivor, and nothing will put me in an early grave. 

Once on the accursed land of men again, I began to sit and think about my situation. Why had the mists eluded me? As an elf, I had the spirit of the Eldar within me, which was supposed to guide all elves to the Grey Heavens once they set out for them. And yet, the undying lands had shrouded themselves to me -something they would do only in the presence of one who had not the spirit of the Eldar.

Perhaps, I reasoned, that by not going with my people, it was like I had given up the spirit of the Eldar that guides all elves to their eternal place of peace. But then, I wondered, if I had truly given up the spirit, why was I still immortal? How come I had not begun to age as mortals do ---as Arwen eventually had? How come after 30 years I still had my elf-like qualities such as pointed ears, a hypnotic singing voice, and feet that left no tracks? Once Arwen had given up the spirit, the tips of her ears began to round off, her once enchanting voice changed, so that it sounded no better than any other mortal woman's, and her feet, which had once been so light that they could not leave a trace even in freshly powdered snow, became heavy so that not only did she leave tracks, but you could hear her footsteps in the hallways.

No, I thought, the spirit of the Eldar couldn't have left me… Then I realized… it was not that I had given up the spirit of the Eldar… But that I had corrupted it. Corrupted it worse than any mortal ever could. Corrupted it beyond reckoning. 

It all suddenly made sense -although I had once fought for a valiant cause, I no longer cared for righteous things after I had moved to Gondor. In Gondor, I learned of evils that should not exist, and tainted my pure heart with devilish thoughts. Elves are symbolic of all that is good and perfect… But I had gone so terribly astray from that path in first lusting after Aragorn, then losing hope and faith in humanity, and acknowledging that Middle earth could never prosper in the hands of men, for wanting revenge -for my people, for myself, and for Middle Earth, and then just standing by, watching, and even enjoying myself as Arwen wreaked havoc and took life after innocent life. 

I was now beyond redemption… and in a sinister way, I reveled in it. I had been forced to behave goodly and pure my entire life… Despite what I truly felt, despite my feelings of animosity towards men, despite myself unto me. I spent thousands of years as little steward boy to my father, the king, trying so hard to be the perfect son -the best archer -the valiant hero -the only elf in the fellowship -one of the saviors of middle earth. 

All of that time was spent in vain, as in the course of no more than 30 years, I have done all that is unthinkable to an elf -desired and seduced one of my own gender, and a mortal no less, played courtier in the realm of men, and allowed murder to take place -even hoped that murder would take place. And now I am a very different elf than the innocent and subservient little Legolas who set out in a fellowship of nine to destroy the ring of power… Without knowing, I signed my life and happiness away the moment I pledged my bow to the quest. Stupid, moronic, idiotic little Legolas… How could I have not seen..?

I think that have learned and experienced more about life in these past 30 years than I ever knew in over two thousand. The only things that have not changed since the beginning of my journey are my ties to the Earth, and my feelings of animosity towards men. For the two are inextricably linked. As an elf, I feel a strong connection to the land, and right now, because of the deeds of men, Middle Earth is in pain. She suffers, and cries out, and bleeds. And nothing can bleed forever… soon, very soon, the earth will be bled dry. And she will cease to suffer in silence….

A/N: lol, It's me again, the psychopathic author. Just wanted to remind you to R&R and Stay tuned for part 2 : "In the Shadows", with four more ballads to soothe your eternally damned souls.


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